


in the mood for love

by 99izm



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Artist! Jihoon, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous! Jihoon, Kissing, Kissing Games, M/M, Road Trips, Siren! Jihoon, pizza delivery boy woojin, post-disbandment, youtubers! 2park
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99izm/pseuds/99izm
Summary: A collection of all my prompts collected from myccand random ficlets.Chapter 14: Woojin borrows a book. Or attempts to do so.





	1. it's ice cold, but my heart is warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink/post/231974803): (winter olympics au) couple goals ice hockey player woojin and gold medallist figure skater jihoon

It's an open secret that everyone fucks around in the Olympic Village, except _them_. Woojin gets questions from strangers who he doesn't know the names of, "Why don't you just join us for the night? It'll be fun." It's suggestive, and he shakes his head. There's a better place he can be at, anyway.  
  
So he makes his way to one of the ice rinks that they use for training, for the short practices that they can squeeze in to get used to the new environment before the actual competition starts.   
  
Woojin has always liked the ice rink. It's the only place in the world where it’s always cold, and quenches the burning fire within him. If he could, he thinks that he could probably be married to the ice rink and ice hockey, the sport that heightened his passions— _well_ , that was before he met Park Jihoon anyway.   
  
He leans against the sides of the ice rink; the cement edges of bright colours as he watches the love of his life dance on the ice. Woojin had never really been one to believe in magic, but it feels like Jihoon is magical—from the way he slides across the hall, while enchanting everyone’s attention to him, him, and only _him_ ; the way he is feathery light but has his own edge, his own strength when he executes the steps, the back steps, the jumps and turns.   
  
He’s entranced, and he doesn’t realise when the music comes to a still. He almost feels like the moth attracted to the light, from the way he can’t take his eyes off Jihoon, who’s talking to his coach while running his fingers through his golden blonde hair.   
  
(“What do you think?” Jihoon’s face is flushed a beautiful pink, and it creates a striking contrast against his pale features, and the glistening hair.   
  
“You’re beautiful,” Woojin whispers, stroking the edges of his cheek and the stray hairs. “You’re always so beautiful. To me, at least.”)  
  
It’s moments later that Jihoon has exited the rink, and Woojin senses his presence next to him.   
  
“What are you doing here?” Jihoon mumbles, enveloping Woojin into a backhug, nose smooshed into his back.   
  
“Watching you.”  
  
“You’ve seen this routine a million times,” Woojin doesn't need to turn back to know that Jihoon's rolling his eyes, but he tightens his grip around his waist at the same time.   
  
It’s comfortable, and then, he hears the prickling insecurity. “I’m scared.”  
  
Woojin turns around to cup Jihoon’s face into his palms, and he sees the way Jihoon’s eyes are glazed with worry. Anxiety is always a thing in this industry, where people are hung up over numbers: records, times and scores.   
  
“I know you’re dumb but—” Woojin presses his forehead closer to Jihoon and Woojin thinks that he can feel their breathes intermingling. “—you are _my_ amazing skater. You’ve won so many Grand Prix competitions, so you just have to be yourself, babe.”   
  
Jihoon chuckles, and he plays with the gold medal that's hanging from his neck. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Gold Medalist.” 

Woojin scowls, and he leans back to poke at Jihoon’s forehead. “You still have more gold medals than me. Your trophies are taking too much space.”

It's true. They have a glass cabinet in the middle of their apartment back in Seoul. The medals are growing, and they are competing for space in the single shelf. Woojin frowns internally, because he loves Jihoon, but he loves the sport and relishes in the adrenaline of winning.

And Jihoon’s laughing, and Woojin thinks that it’s the most beautiful sight, no matter how gorgeous Jihoon looks whenever he’s on ice. He’s the most beautiful when they are together, after all.


	2. secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink/post/232010576): (corporate au) hot rival lawyers 2park suddenly find themselves working together when their 2 firms merged - providing entertainment to everyone around them.

"Please don't tell me that you actually want to reach a settlement with the opposing client," Jihoon sighs. They are the only two lawyers left in the firm after a long day of work, but it's hard to get out of the office when you're married to your job.  
  
"I think it's a better option," Woojin reasons, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. The top button of his shirt's left unbuttoned once the tie was off, once the rest of the staff was gone, and Jihoon thinks that it's terribly distracting. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to go to court, not when we'll be riding the firm's name on it."  
  
It's stupid, because Jihoon thinks that the firm's name just sounds ridiculous after their firms merged together. Park & Park Practices. Why don't just call it 2Park Practices? Jihoon crosses his arms, leaning back against his chair as he squints at Woojin. "You know, I've never lost any cases before. What makes you think that our firm's reputation is going to be compromised in any way?"  
  
“I never said anything about you going to lose this case,” Woojin reasserts. “I just don’t think that it’s worth bringing this case to court when we could focus on others instead.”   
  
_God_. He doesn’t understand why Park Woojin’s such a damn wimp whenever it comes to taking big risks, when he was made Senior Partner earlier than Jihoon himself was. Being a lawyer’s all about taking risks, and Jihoon starts to wonder what exactly did Woojin do end up at where he is right now.   
  
It doesn’t help that with every passing sigh, every passing second, Jihoon finds himself getting more distracted by the silver of Woojin’s skin. Also, it's his 40th hour of running on no sleep, after he's been spending every waking hour wracking his brain, trying to think of ways to go about solving the case that they had in their hands. They were supposed to work on it together, but it's frustrating because Jihoon feels like he's working solo.  
  
“Ugh,” He whines. Now, he’s beginning to feel the fatigue seep into his bones. It also didn’t help that his associate, Guanlin was off back in Taiwan to visit his parents. God. He should never have approved the leave. Jihoon would love to have an extra hand in helping him with the menial tasks, so he could focus on the _better_ aspects of the case. “I’m so tired. I don’t wanna do this case anymore.”   
  
And Woojin knows Jihoon better than any law in the world, because he's heading to the tinted glass doors. It's when Woojin closes the door behind them, that it feels like he's been whisked off to a separate world and Jihoon can now let the masks fall.  
  
“Hug me, Woojinnie,” Jihoon opens his arms up, shaking slightly. “I want a hug. Give me one.”   
  
“You’re insufferable,” Woojin sighs but he’s walking towards Jihoon to wrap him in a hug, anyway. “Why did you even want to keep _this_ a secret anyway?” 

Jihoon leans into the embrace, sniffing while tightening his grips on Woojin’s white dress shirt, so that he could better take in the scent of Woojin. “Isn’t it more fun like this?” “Yeah,” Woojin says but Jihoon knows that he’s rolling his eyes.

Jihoon loves his job, and it’s even better when his job comes with extra perks like Park Woojin.


	3. charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink/post/231971550): siren!jihoon tries to drown woojin's ship but woojin is the only one not intoxicated and said that his voice is annoying

Jihoon hates his powers, hates having to steal the lives of people to continue living; but it’s hard to continue living in a life of perpetual self hatred, and the cycle of self wallowing depression. It takes him years of control and learning before he understands his power, learns the art of control and embraces it.   
  
It’s one of those stormy nights, and he can see the vague brightness through the cloudy skies. It’s a ship, and when he taps his tail against the water, the waters and the fishes tell him that they are pirates.   
  
Jihoon never had good experiences with pirates, anyway. 

Not when most of his experiences had been painful, watching the pirates shed blood over the riches; and Jihoon wonders what is it about humankind that makes them the selfish creatures that they are.  
  
So he raises his voice into a song, a song of promised eternities and missed loves; and he smirks when he sees the ship draw close.   
  
He’s about to burst into the climax of the song, when he hears a voice from the ship, among the glazed eyes and intoxicated men.  
  
“God, can you stop singing?” The voice cuts in, and Jihoon looks up to see a very good looking man. His hair is dyed a fiery red, skin kissed and blessed by the sun, and the pirate garments fit him like a second skin. Jihoon thinks that he’s about to rework his very own definition of pirates. “Can’t you see how my men are falling asleep thanks to your annoying voice?”   
  
“ _Excuse me_ , my voice is anything but annoying,” Jihoon squints, crossing his arms. He should feel insulted, but he feels more intrigued by how the man in front of him is seemingly, immune to his charms. There's a first time for everything, but it's strange to find someone who's immune to his powers, especially when he has been living for the past few hundreds of years, and he knows nothing but pain and suffering. “What’s your name?”   
  
“Park Woojin, why?”   
  
Hm. Interesting. Jihoon raises a single eyebrow. He wonders what he should do to make him stay.

 


	4. trick me (or maybe, it's a treat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink/post/225763349): a halloween au where park woojin took his lil sister to go trick or treat but ended up finding the cutest guy in his neighbourhood park jihoon

Halloween's a strange concept that Woojin never quite understood. He sees them in the dramas that he watches, the books that he reads, but it's such a... Western concept, that it's strange to him because he's living in Seoul. So he doesn't expect it when Yerim comes up to him a week before the actual holiday and says, "Oppa, our school's going Trick or Treat-ing next week, can you go with me?"  
  
"What," He deadpans. "Well, I don't mind, but do I have to wear a costume?"  
  
Yerim shakes her head. "I think you can scare everyone away with just your frown, oppa! So it's all good!"  
  
Woojin resists the urge to smack his younger sister.  
  


—

  
Woojin's bringing his sister around the neighbourhood. It's a little chilly, so he tugs the wool jacket closer to himself, but he sees the way Yerim's smiling and grinning as she yells "Trick or Treat!" and he thinks, hey—it's all good, after all. She is adorable, he can't deny that—in a Disney princess outfit that they bought off one of the neighbourhood supermarkets.  
  
They are at the _n_ th house of the night, when he rings the doorbell for Yerim. She tries to lean on her tiptoes, tries to jump for it but it's futile; but Woojin lets her do it until she pouts at him to press the doorbell for her.   
  
The door opens, and it reveals— _wow_ , fuck, what. It's the cutest guy that Woojin has ever seen in his life, and fuck, his eyes are sparkling and he thinks that could probably slide his fingers off the slope of his nose.   
  
"Trick or Treat!" Yerim yells, extending her pumpkin bucket.  
  
The stranger laughs, and reaches down to ruffle Yerim's hair. "Of course, it's a treat for a lovely princess like you!"   
  
Then, he turns back to grab some candies, and drops them into the bucket. He smiles at Yerim for the last time, and then he looks straight into Woojin's eyes, and Woojin feels like he's being electrocuted from the intensity of his gaze.  
  
"I hope you want a trick, cutie."


	5. melt into my arms

Life is about changes and getting used to them, but Jihoon thinks that no matter how much he tries, performing without Park Woojin by his side is a reality that he can't get used to.

Jihoon bites at his lower lip, when he turns over to his side, but there isn't a charming snaggletooth that's peaking out at him; there isn't a smile that brightens his entire fucking world shining back at him. It's not that he hates the rest of the members that he's promoting with, but he just misses, he just misses Park Woojin. He misses singing and dancing, performing and then Woojin will be at his side, anchoring him, supporting him softly with his mere presence.

He heads back to backstage after his group bows and says their thanks. They don't forget to switch on the fanservice, offering waves to the fans who have been waiting for them for hours. He knows that Woojin's promoting too and his eyes dart around in search for the tanned boy once they are back in the corridors of the broadcasting building.

"Hyung!" He hears one of the members call after him, but Jihoon doesn't quite register his voice. Not when that voice isn't the voice that he's been searching for. "Are you coming?"

"It's alright, go on without me!" and Jihoon walks down the hallway, away from his group to find Woojin. And then, he feels that he's being pulled into an empty dressing room and—

"Fuck," Jihoon thinks he's about to cry as the smell of Woojin hits him. It's cashmere and warmth, and it's Park _fucking_  Woojin. And he lets himself melt into Woojin's embrace. "I missed you. so much."

"I missed you too," Woojin whispers, threading his fingers through the frayed ends of Jihoon's hair. Woojin misses the times when Jihoon's hair was still soft to the touch, but the life of an idol means bleached and dead hair. But it's part of Jihoon, and Woojin misses all of him.

"It's not the same," Jihoon mumbles, and he feels the tears well up in his eyes, at the memories that come washing onto him like an uncalled tsunami. "They aren't bad, but none of them is you, you know."

Woojin bites at his lower lip. He loves Youngmin-hyung, Donghyun-hyung, Daehwi, Sihoon—but he knows. he knows that a tiny part of his heart longs for Jihoon, longs for Bunssodan, longs for the nights that they spend in each other's embraces, talking about everything and nothing, longs for the moments that used to be _them_.

They stay like that for a heartbeat longer, but it's soon time for Woojin's turn on stage. It's like they are living in beautiful, fleeting dreams and their moments come to a fiery end when they wake up from the dream. They pull back when they register Daehwi's voice from outside the room, and Woojin's the one to press a soft kiss against Jihoon's lips. It's nothing like the intense, fiery kisses that they would smother each other in when they are in the privacy of  _them_ , but it speaks of pent-up longing and all of Woojin's love for him.

"I hate missing you," Jihoon murmurs when Woojin pulls away. His hands are still wrapped around Woojin's torso, and Jihoon finds it harder to let go.

"You make me want to leave Brand New Music," Woojin teases. Jihoon squints at him. "Sorry, I know. Bad joke, bad joke."

Then, Woojin presses his forehead against Jihoon's one, and Jihoon can feel the way his cheekbones tug up to form a gentle smile. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Jihoon raises a single eyebrow.

"Did you think I could ever forget your birthday?" Woojin rolls his eyes. "I didn't get a driving license for nothing, you know."

Jihoon hates how it's so easy for Woojin to mess up with his own rhythm, and how his heart starts beating treacherously quickly whenever Woojin says stuff like  _these._ He feels the heat rush to his face, and he looks away from Woojin as he says, "I love you."

"Me too."

It's in these small moments and the hopes for more heartbeats shared together that Jihoon gets the courage to make it through the long days. It's utterly unfair how they are so in love with each other, but there are invisible walls that have been erected between them. And JIhoon thinks, the heart really wants what they can't get.


	6. fire

“Let’s go on a road trip someday.”

“Ok.”

 

— 

 

The thing about Park Jihoon is that he’s impulsive and he’s the resident poster boy for bad decisions. And the thing about Park Woojin is that he likes Park Jihoon, so he trails behind him.

It’s also why they are sitting in a sedan, driving along the lonely, long roads in the suburbs of Hokkaido. Woojin’s on the wheel, and Jihoon wraps his sweater tighter around himself. It’s summer, but the nights are chilly in the northern part of the island.

“Cold?” Woojin asks.

“No,” Jihoon replies but his teeth is chattering.

The windows of the sedan are drawn down at both their sides. It invites the wind in, and it leaves soft caresses against Jihoon’s cheeks but there’s something about the chill that is enchanting, that draws him in like a moth is drawn to fire. 

Woojin doesn’t say anything, and he keeps his hands on the wheel. But it’s only several moments later when he pulls up, next to a field of barren land, and he hops off the car. He heads to the back of the sedan, where they have stuffed most of their supplies. Jihoon follows suit. When he steps out of the car, the wind hits him like a truck, and it’s colder than what he expected it to be.

“Fuck,” Jihoon mutters as he makes his way to the back of the sedan. Woojin’s already taking out the tent and the firestarter, so Jihoon takes out the thick blankets and the pillows. 

They don’t say anything as they work together to set up their camp for the night. It has already become routine for them. Woojin works on setting up the fire while Jihoon sets up the tent. And Jihoon would be working halfway, trying to reach the top of the tent on his tiptoes, and Woojin would pull it down for him. He doesn’t do the job for Jihoon.

They sit down on the edge of tent, holding their hands out to the makeshift campfire in front of them. It’s silent, and Jihoon thinks that he can only hear the sounds of their breathing and the crackles of fire. The fire illuminates their surroundings, but it doesn’t show Jihoon what lies beyond the vast field. And Jihoon is reminded of how fucking big the world is, and they are just merely tiny people in a large world.

When he turns to look at Woojin, his hair is in a mess. _ Probably from the wind _ , Jihoon thinks. The fire briefly brightens up his image. He sees the layer of grime from how they haven’t washed in days. He sees the slightly dark circles that’s beginning to form from all the hours on the road. He sees the crinkles at the sides of his eyes. He sees all the cracks and the scars, but they make Park Woojin look so fucking beautiful.

“What are you staring at?” Woojin’s voice is deep, and it cuts his train of thoughts like a pair of freshly sharpened scissors.

“Nothing,” Jihoon averts his gaze and he swallows the lump that had formed in his throat.

Woojin looks like he has something to say, but he looks away. Jihoon looks at the direction that Woojin’s looking in. It’s the nothingness that lies beyond them.

“I don’t want to go back,” Woojin comments.

Jihoon nods. He wonders if Woojin sees it. 

“How long do you think we can survive like this?”

“We’ll probably die in a month.”

Jihoon’s being generous. He thinks that they probably won’t last anymore weeks from how fast their wad of cash has been dwindling. He’s okay with living on their existing supplies, but gas is expensive—and Jihoon isn’t quite sure where they’re headed to now.

All he knows that he doesn’t want to head back to the reality that’s South Korea.

“That’s generous,” Woojin replies. “I’ve thought that you’d say a week.”

Jihoon hums. He wonders if Woojin sees through his words. Jihoon doesn’t quite know since when he’s been lying to Woojin, lying to  _ himself _ . It’s easier to lie, after all. He doesn’t want to expose the rawness of his heart, of his emotions. 

They sit in silence. Jihoon looks at the blanket of darkness above them. The stars dot the blanket, but there’s something about the way that they seem so detached from the rest of the world, that Jihoon admires them, that he wishes that he could be like them too. The fire continues to crackle until it fades away. 

“Let’s go to sleep.”

They crawl back inside the tent. There’s only a single pillow, and a single blanket that’s inside, but that’s okay, because it’s what they’re used to. They lie down on the flat ground, and Jihoon’s about to fall asleep to the silence when he feels Woojin tap his shoulder. Jihoon turns around.

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

And their lips meet in the middle.

 


	7. 1 + 1 = save park jihoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Reena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leeminhyoongi/pseuds/leeminhyoongi) for always being here for me, and holding my hand everytime I need her. ♡

“Jihoon-hyung, you _lost_ so you have to do it!”

Personally, Jihoon thinks that it’d be a faster way for him to die by digging a hole through this third-floor apartment than to actually start tapping away the buttons on his phone. He squints at Jinyoung, who’s laughing the hardest and then, at Guanlin who’s trying not to laugh, but the way the sides of his mouth crinkle gives him away.

He wonders what kind of karma he has accumulated this semester for the bottle to land on him, and for the rest of his hungry juniors to dare him to “order pizza, and request for a cute delivery boy.”

Jihoon pouts, but Guanlin, Jinyoung, Donghan and Daehwi have already moved past him, and are spinning the bottle again. He wonders if he should take the opportunity to run, but Daehwi’s shrill voice cuts through the air: “Don’t even think of running away, _hyung_!”

So, he sighs and picks up his phone, while walking towards his kitchen where he remembers he has several pizza delivery flyers pasted on his fridge.

“Kids!” Jihoon hollers. “What pizza do you want?”

“Anything!” “Just no veggies!” “Cheese!”

At least Guanlin’s a good kid who actually steps up from their circle to walk over to Jihoon, and tell him, “I want a pepperoni pizza. Thin crust. Extra cheese.”

“Do you really need the extra cheese?” Jihoon glares. Extra cheese is an additional 3 bucks, and Jihoon’s a poor college student. Also, Jihoon’s on a diet ever since it was announced that he’s going to be the male lead of their upcoming stageplay.

“Of course, hyung!” Guanlin frowns. “You can’t have pizza if you don’t have extra cheese!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Jihoon sighs. Then, he’s dialing the numbers for the pizza delivery. He doesn’t really do take outs, because acting is a full package—and he needs to maintain his figure.

It takes several seconds for the line to get through, and Jihoon can feel the way his heart is thumping so quickly in his ribcage. He wonders if it’s the jitters from having to order takeout or it’s his incoming doom of having to ask, “Do you do a 1+1 promotion? Could I get a cute delivery boy for the +1?”

Jihoon can’t believe that Donghan and Daehwi even came out with that exact phrase. It’s almost like they planned it.

“Hello, this is Sparrow’s Pizza.”

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

This was not what Jihoon had been expecting.

Did Jihoon mention that he had a weakness for men who spoke with the Busan _satoori_?

Who even allowed men with Busan _satoori_ to be the ones to pick up phone calls for pizza delivery?

Jihoon thinks that he should hang up right this instant, before his brain _actually_ short-circuits from the thick Busan _satoori_ and the deep voice who he’d have to speak with for the next few minutes.

“Hello? Excuse me, are you there?”

It’s timely how the rest of the people in his room shoot looks at him, reminding him of what he’s supposed to do. Jihoon vaguely wonders if his face is as red as the speed of his heartbeat, and he clears his throat in an attempt to calm himself.

“Yes, sorry about that,” Jihoon says. “Do you deliver to Seoul University?”

“Yes, we do. What would you like?”

“Could I get a medium pepperoni pizza, thin crust and extra cheese?” Jihoon doesn’t actually know what else to order, so he asks, “Do you have other recommendations? I don’t actually, eat pizza much.”

“ _What_ ,” the voice over the phone deadpans. “How can you not eat pizza much? Shit, _shit_ —I forgot that I was on the job. I’m sorry, please ignore me—”

Jihoon can’t help but laugh at the way the voice over the phone is slurring over his words, at how his embarrassment translated into thicker satoori that drips like honey; and Jihoon thinks that he’d order pizza every day now if it means that he can hear that voice.

“But I recommend the potato flavour if you like the sweet and crunchy texture, and bulgogi if you’re one for meat.”

“Don’t judge my anti pizza past self, okay? But sure, I’ll get one of each. Medium size, thin crust, no extra cheese. And two bottles of Cola please,” Jihoon laughs, and his hand moves to hover over his mouth as he looks away from his living area where the rest of them have been squinting at him, probably wondering what was so interesting about getting an order for pizza that it’s making him laugh like that.

“Good, you won’t regret it,” the voice replies with a husky chuckle. It’s ridiculous how the chuckle resonates in his head, taunting him and Jihoon vaguely wonders if this is going to be the way he dies.   
  
“We also have a 1+1 promotion for the pizza, so you’d have another pizza on the house. What would you like?”

This is it.

Jihoon hitches his breath as he mentally prepares himself for the lines that he’s going to have to say because of a stupid dare, and he wonders just why is he making himself go through this.

“Instead of an additional pizza, could I get a cute delivery boy for the +1?”

“Oh my god,” the voice replies. “ _Well_ , no promises. But I’ll try my best.”

Jihoon really wants to dig a hole in his apartment now. He gives Sparrow’s Pizza his apartment number and his phone number and they inform him that the pizza would arrive in 45 minutes or so.

“Thank you for ordering from Sparrow’s Pizza today.”

Yeah, right.

Jihoon thinks this would definitely make it into his life’s Top 10 Most Embarrassing Moments compilation video. (Well, the first place is still unbeatable. Nothing would ever beat having to wear a dress for a Maid Cafe that his class ran back in high school. Jihoon burnt all the photos from back then.)

With a loud sigh, he plops back down on his spot in between Guanlin and Jinyoung, where Jinyoung gives him a pat on his shoulder.

“Thanks for the pizza, hyung.”

Jihoon glares at him.

He’s definitely going to show no mercy at the following dares.

Watch out, idiots.

Watch out.

 

—

 

It’s really 45 minutes later when Jihoon’s doorbell rings, and he grabs his wallet that’s lying at his side to pay for the pizza.

By now, they are already worn out from playing “dare or dare” and they’ve migrated to Jihoon’s couch to watch a movie together. He’d have loved to watch a horror movie, but Jinyoung and Guanlin don’t deal well with horror so they settled with Spirited Away instead.

When Jihoon opens the door, it reveals the cutest guy he has ever seen in his life.

Okay, Jihoon’s got to admit that he, himself, is pretty cute. He’s also surrounded by many good-looking friends (the ones who are immersed in Spirited Away now) but there’s just something about the pizza delivery guy in front of him that is so inexplicably charming, that Jihoon feels his heartbeat speeding up.

He’s in a cute blue striped sweater and ripped jeans—nothing like the pizza delivery guys that Jihoon remembers. But he is holding onto stacks of pizza boxes and there are bottles of Cola by his feet.

“Delivery for Mr. Park Jihoon?”

Fuck.

_It’s Busan-satoori-guy._

Life is really unfair, Jihoon thinks. It should be illegal for anyone to have both a fucking cute face and speaks with a Busan _satoori_ , too. Jihoon feels the heat rushing to his face, and the tips of his ears are _definitely_ flaming.

“Yes, that’d be me,” Jihoon barely musters the courage to look at the delivery boy. He almost regrets the moment when he does, because he feels the way his gaze is electrifying, and it sends a tingle down Jihoon’s spine. “How much will that be?”

“It’d be 40 dollars, please.”

Screw him. Screw the _damn satoori_ , please.

They are a little clumsy as Jihoon fumbles for exact change, and the delivery boy looks like he’s struggling to maintain his hold on the pizza boxes.

“Ah, you can just leave it on the floor,” Jihoon says after taking out the notes in his wallet. “I’ll bring it in later.”

When Jihoon passes the notes over to the delivery boy, he feels another jolt of electricity pass through his body from their brief body contact. He thinks he’s never going to eat pizza again, from all the hard work that his heart has been doing for the past hour.

“Thank you,” the delivery boy nods at him as he pockets the cash into the back pocket of his jeans.

Jihoon thinks that his misery is finally about to end, but delivery boy has other ideas, because he’s smiling at him, and there’s a snaggletooth that peeks out from the side of his mouth and he says, “I hope I’m cute enough for your request.”

Jihoon smooshes his face into his palms, “Oh god. Please forget that I ever said that. It was a dare.”

“Are you saying that I’m not cute?” He teases.

“Oh my god, _no_ ,” Jihoon looks up to fervently shake his head, and then there’s that smirk on his face.

It’s disgusting how timely Daehwi turns his head over from the movie, and then Jihoon hears the way Daehwi bounces over to the door while yelling, “Woojin-hyung!”

“Oh!” Delivery boy’s eyes sparkle in recognition. Not that Jihoon is looking intently at him. Not at all. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were working tonight too,” Daehwi’s talking to Woojin but he’s looking straight into Jihoon’s eyes, and Jihoon can see the way the gears are aligning in his head.

“I was,” Delivery boy—Woojin, apparently—replies. “I just finished work.”

Jihoon has a feeling of what Daehwi’s about to suggest—a very bad feeling indeed. “Want to join us?”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward?” Woojin chuckles nervously, scratching at the side of his face.

“Nah,” Daehwi grins with teasing note in his voice, and he pulls Jihoon over to a side hug. “I’m sure Jihoon-hyung wouldn’t mind, right?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon chuckles. “Why not?”

(More like, _fuck you_ , Lee Daehwi.)

“Alright, I’ll bring the pizza in then,” Woojin grins at them, and he takes the pizza boxes and the drinks into Jihoon’s room. Jihoon sees the way the veins protrude slightly from his arms, and Jihoon wants to lynch himself.

“Hyung,” Daehwi whispers. “I think you might want to get more Cola.”

“What?” Jihoon squints at Daehwi, pulling out of their half hug.

“You look _so_ thirsty.”

“Fuck you.”


	8. swollen lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rea: has finals  
> also rea: gets 2131734821 ideas for 2park
> 
> Inspired by Jihoon's viral [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0q5Nh6IIfS4).

It’s hard to get moments of privacy when they are filming Zero Base.

Zero Base _is_ a nice place that they enjoy spending time in. It’s different from their dorm, which has slowly started to become a place where they merely stored their gifts and presents at, and went back to sleep in. It’s also hard to treat the dormitory as home, when there is the constant fear and annoyance that hovers around them as they spy sasaeng fans who are loitering outside of their dorm.

Fond memories are made in Zero Base as they record for their variety show, and there’s something _intimate_ about the place, where even though they are being recorded, that makes them feel at home, much more than their dormitory.

Jihoon wonders if they could buy the Zero Base or something, keep it as Wanna One’s own private hideout, so that they could still have a place that belonged to _them_ , that was filled with memories of them that aren’t recording studios and waiting rooms, even after their time as Wanna One expires. He loves every part of Zero Base—how the rooms depict each members’ personality so aptly, how it’s filled with _things_ that allow them to come together, despite their evident differences.

But it’s also hard because there are cameras everywhere, in every nook and cranny of the hideout. And it makes it hard for him to seek comfort in Park Woojin.

Perhaps, it’s all the stress that accumulates within him: wanting to be with Woojin when they are in a confined, lovely place together—but he can’t, the stress from the lack of sleep and constant practices for their comeback; that it prompts him to sit down in front of the table, and pick out the instant cup of spicy noodles.

There’s just something about spicy food that serves as a relief, that seems to make all the problems in the world disappear as he consumes the food. But as he prepares the noodles, and as he mixes the sauce together with the boiled noodles, he starts to regret his decision.

Fuck.

It’s fucking potent.

“Is it spicy?” He hears Minhyun-hyung ask after he’s sniffing at the noodles, and feeling that he just dug his own grave.

“It’s s-super spicy!” Jihoon says, feeling like his eyes are about to water from the very spice that emanates from the noodles like gas fumes; and he holds up the noodles so that Minhyun-hyung can lean in to smell it.

It only takes a few seconds for Minhyun-hyung to smell it, before he’s leaning back and making a noise in agreement—and then he’s walking away and Jihoon brings the chopsticks up to shove the noodles into his mouth.

Jihoon used to think that those fire chicken noodles were _fucking spicy_ —but this just took it to the next level.

He’s scratching at the back of his head, and hitting himself as the heat gets to him but there’s something about it that draws him in, that wants to finish the fucking noodles even as it makes him yell “It’s so spicy” and he’s fidgeting about.

“What’s wrong with you?” He vaguely registers Woojin’s voice, but it sounds so distant and apathetic—and it’s actually Seongwoo-hyung’s voice that pulls him back into reality as Seongwoo-hyung asks for a bite.

He passes the noodles over to Seongwoo-hyung as he grabs a bottle of yoghurt water from the fridge. They always said that it’s good to drink dairy products when you’re dying from spice, right?

“It’s good, though?” Seongwoo says.

Jihoon wants to roll his eyes because the spice doesn’t hit you _that_ quickly—but he can’t form words when all his mind can think of is how fucking spicy it is, and how he regrets _everything_.

He tries to alleviate the spice by taking a bite out of Sungwoon-hyung’s jjajangmyeon, but it only aggravates everything because it feels like the spice that he barely recovered from is back, hitting him like a damn truck.

“This is spicy too?!” He yells, feeling his eyes water.

“No, no, it’s because it’s still hot,” Woojin explains.

Jihoon really regrets everything.

 

—

 

The only place that there aren’t any cameras in the Zero Base is the washroom.

Jihoon eventually retreats to the washroom several minutes later to brush his teeth, wanting to get rid of _all_ traces of the damn noodles out of his mouth.

Admittedly, the noodles _were_ good and it did serve the purpose of relieving the stress that was pent up in his body as all he could focus on was the satisfying burn and nothing else. Not even Park Woojin sitting in front of him, eating his own noodles could take his mind off the spice.

Jihoon’s midway brushing his teeth when he hears the door to the washroom open. Damn it, he actually forgot to lock the door?! The door opens to reveal a certain Park Woojin, and judging from how he isn’t holding onto anything, Jihoon has a vague inkling of what Woojin’s here to do.

He’s finishing the final movements of brushing his teeth, and about to rinse his mouth when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He feels the way Woojin’s cheeks are smooshed against his back, and it’s warm—and it’s very _Woojin._

He wants to say the words that are building up in his throat, but the foam stops him from doing so, and so he hastens up his speed and rinses his mouth. When Jihoon’s done, he wipes his hands against the side towel, and puts his toothbrush down.

“What do you want?” Jihoon says, but he doesn’t do anything about Woojin’s tight grip.

“I just want to hug my boyfriend,” Woojin replies, voice slightly muffled. He’s swinging them both from side to side softly, and Jihoon lets himself sway to the movement.

Jihoon wants to roll his eyes as he recalls how Woojin had been nonchalantly eating his noodles while he was positively suffering, so he’s sure to bring it up. “So much for being _my boyfriend._ You didn’t even do anything to help me just now!”

Woojin stops in his movement, and Jihoon gets reminded of how fucking strong Woojin is from the way he twirls Jihoon around effortlessly, so that they are meeting eyes. It’s also in moments like these—where they are alone in an intimate moment, that Jihoon’s reminded of their height difference; of how much Woojin had grown—and how they’ve actually found a permanent spot in each other’s lives, holding each other’s hands while walking down the path of growth.

“Did you want me to ravish you in front of everyone else?” Woojin says, but there’s a hint of a lazy smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. He’s pressing Jihoon closer to the counter, and then, his fingers are hovering over Jihoon’s lips. “You should see how fucking tempting you were with those swollen lips, _god._ ”

Jihoon finds himself flushing, the heat (that isn’t from the spice) rushing to his ears. It’s so quick how the tables turn from something soft and sweet, to something that makes the adrenaline flush and course quickly through his veins; and Jihoon always finds himself putty in Woojin’s hands.

“Maybe—” Jihoon muses, and he’s pulling Woojin in closer, wrapping his hands around his neck. “—You should have.”

“Ravished you in front of everyone else _and_ the cameras?” Woojin raises an eyebrow.

But he’s leaning in.

“I only want you for _myself_ though, babe.”

It’s terrible how easy Woojin knows him so fucking well, knows which buttons to press that brings out the best _and_ the worst out of him because Woojin turns up the strength of _satoori_ in his voice, and makes sure to add _babe_. Fuck. Jihoon should never have revealed his weaknesses.

It’s also when he’s consumed in his thoughts, hypersensitive of the distance between himself and Woojin that Woojin’s pulling in him into a kiss that makes his knees jelly, and makes him weak in all the _right_ spots.

It’s strong and bruising, and his lips are still vaguely swollen from the spicy noodles from hell. But there’s the familiar sweetness of Woojin’s lips, and how he nibbles on Jihoon’s lower lip in between licks; and Jihoon finds himself surrendering to Woojin’s administrations. It feels like it’s getting heated with every burning second, from the way Woojin presses closer into him so that there isn’t a concept of space between them, from the way Woojin has an arm around his waist but also has his fingers threading through his hair—and fuck, Jihoon loves everything about _them_.

And Woojin’s licking across his bottom lip. It’s a familiar dance of push and pull that Jihoon knows, and when he opens his mouth to welcome Woojin’s tongue, it’s restrained and Woojin’s licking into every corner and crevice of his mouth—and Jihoon can only want more, more, _more_.

They do nothing more but engage in this dance of _them_ , and it’s heartbeats later when they pull back for oxygen. They are both panting loudly, and Jihoon can feel the way his heart is hammering against his chest—but also the way Woojin’s chest is heaving against his. And when Jihoon looks up to meet Woojin’s eyes, he sees the swollen lips and glazed eyes that speak of nothing but love and adoration through gentle gazes.

“Love you, babe,” Woojin grins at him. He runs a finger across Jihoon’s lips, and it’s now that Jihoon feels how swollen his own lips are (again).

There’s still something surreal about their relationship, of how they managed to find each other out of the billions of people out there in the world, in a toxic environment of pressure and competition—and Jihoon can’t quite come to terms that Woojin is _his_ , no matter how much Woojin assures him of the very fact.

So he averts his eyes from Woojin’s piercing gaze, and he tries hard to muster the words that are lodged in his throat, “L-Love you t-too.”

And Woojin’s fingers are beneath his chin, and he’s angling them so that Jihoon’s forced to meet eyes with Woojin.

“I want to see your face when you say that you love me,” Woojin says. He knows of Woojin’s own insecurities whenever he flirts a tad _too much_ with the rest of the members, and that it isn’t easy for Woojin to say the “I love you”s either—and Jihoon’s just running away from the weight of love whenever he’s looking away, even though his heart is bursting with warmth and swelling with happiness. But love is a heavy weight; and admittance is a rock that weighs him down.

“I know,” Jihoon says. “I’m scared.”

“I’m always here for you.”

Woojin’s stroking at the sides of his cheeks, and a part of Jihoon wonders what he has ever done in his life to deserve someone like Park Woojin.

So he takes a huge breath, and he wonders how he must look like in Woojin’s eyes as he musters the courage to say, “I love you, Park Woojin.”

Woojin breaks into a smile—the wide smiles that make the side of his eyes crinkle, that show his bottom teeth, that speaks of nothing but sheer happiness; and it’s a sight that Jihoon wants to save forever in his heart.


	9. boyfriend tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this [video.](https://twitter.com/daquadTM/status/933754799740174336%22) You're welcome, folks!
> 
> Edit (29/11): I also made a [thing](https://twitter.com/99izm/status/935765580837244928) that was inspired by this AU!

"That's a stupid game to suggest," Jihoon scowls.

"I think it'd be fun," Woojin grins as he puts down his phone.

Daehwi had linked them to a viral video of two guys who played rock, paper, scissors. When the guy on the left won, he'd lean in to kiss the guy on the right. Meanwhile, when the guy on the right won, he'd lean in to slap the other.

It just seemed so _them_ , according to Daehwi.

"I can't believe you want to do this just because it's something that went viral," Jihoon huffs, crossing his arms and leaning deeper into the sofa. But there's a look in Jihoon's eyes that tells woojin that he isn't as adverse to the idea as he makes it seem to be.

“I know you’re used to be being a trendsetter, Mr. Jeojang, but it’d be cute,” and Woojin's pulling Jihoon in so that he can press a kiss onto Jihoon's forehead. "We could do that for your upcoming video, yeah? Don't you have that boyfriend tag request too?"

“Mm,” Jihoon muses for a moment, and he’s wrapping his arms around Woojin’s waist so that it’s easier for him to press his cheek against Woojin’s shoulder. “I guess we could do it.”

Woojin feels the edges of his lips tugging up to form a grin.

 

—

 

It takes Jihoon a while to set up the camera. Woojin doesn’t know _anything_ about this Youtubers thing, so he settles down on the bed while watching his boyfriend fiddle with the tripod, the ringlight and also the settings of the camera.

There’s just something about watching Jihoon work that makes Woojin fall in love deeper with him. Perhaps, it’s the way his eyebrows scrunch up in concentration, or the way he genuinely looks like he’s in love with what he’s doing. Or maybe, it’s just the fact that it’s Park Jihoon and Woojin loves everything about him.

Then, Jihoon’s walking back to the bed and there’s a grin plastered on his smile. It’s the cue to Woojin that they’re on and Woojin tries not to shift nervously in his seat.

It’s nothing to be worried about, Woojin tries to convince himself. He just needs to be himself, right?

But it’s hard to do that when there’s the consciousness of a camera staring in front of him—and perhaps, Jihoon does know it too because he’s holding onto his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

Yeah. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

“Hello everyone!” Jihoon’s voice is bright, like the sun on a cloudy day—that it just brings a smile to your face just from hearing his voice. “A lot of you have been asking for this so I finally got to do it—the _boyfriend tag_!”

Jihoon cheers, and when Woojin doesn’t do it, he glares at him—and Woojin sighs softly before erupting into a series of louder, more high-pitched cheers himself.

“Anyway, if you didn’t know, this is my boyfriend, Park Woojin—” and Jihoon’s grabbing on his arm, latching onto it and squeezing it. “—and he does dance covers on Youtube by the name _ParkChamsae!_ So please check it out if you’re interested in them!”

“Hi,” Woojin nervously says, scratching at the side of his face.

“Why are you so nervous, god,” Jihoon deadpans, squinting at him from the side. “You upload videos on Youtube too!”

“Excuse me!” Woojin frowns. “My dance cover videos don’t actually need me to, um, _talk_ , in them.”

“You’re such a loser,” Jihoon groans, smacking his forehead with his hand. “Why am I even dating you…”

It makes Woojin’s heart grow warm, because there’s something about this—about their conversation—that reminds him of how everything about them is already a memorised rhythm, a routine that he’s used too; and there’s nothing for him to be nervous or anxious about just because they’re being filmed right now. There’s only _them_ and Woojin wonders why he had been so nervous before.

The jitters have faded away and Woojin finds it easier to say the words that are lodged in his throat, “Because you love me, stupid.”

“I do,” Jihoon says and there’s a familiar blush that starts to creep on his face.

Woojin reaches out to squeeze the cheeks, cooing, “Aw! I still make you blush even after all these years!”

“Shut up,” Jihoon glares, swatting at Woojin’s arms away. It’s easy for them to forget that they are actually filming for something, but Jihoon could probably just edit the content away anyway. “Anyway, going back to the topic at hand: the _boyfriend tag!_ ”

Then, he’s looking at Woojin, “Do you even know what the boyfriend tag is?”

Woojin shakes his head and it prompts a sigh from Jihoon.

“I knew it,” Jihoon shakes his head. “But basically, I’ll ask you some questions about me and you have to answer them all. _Correctly_ , of course.”

“So what happens if I get it wrong?”

“We’re breaking up, duh.”

Woojin rolls his eyes, but Jihoon’s still leaning into him, pressing the entirety of his bodyweight against him. “Just get on with it, would you?”

“Okay! First question: where did you guys meet?”

Woojin muses for a moment. “We met in a general education class in college. It was one of those compulsory group work modules, _what a drag._ Of course… we were assigned to the same group. ”

Jihoon nods, and he takes it upon himself to elaborate, “It was _terrible_ , really. Can you imagine? _He_ was a Math major! Math majors and arts majors don’t mix!”

Woojin scoffs, “And look at where we are now. Okay, next question please.”

“When was our first date?” Jihoon asks, reading off his phone with the list of questions in there.

“Do you mean date _date_ or group work date?” Woojin teases, only to get a pinch in retaliation. “Okay, okay, our first date was after I asked Jihoon out to catch Captain America together, but it was before we started dating—so I don’t actually know if we can consider it as our first date.”

“I would,” Jihoon says softly, and there’s a faint pink that dusts his cheeks. Woojin can’t help but break into a smile as well, as the memories of how their first date went floods into his mind: fighting over popcorn flavours, quarreling over who should pay for tickets or the food, and then hands hovering awkwardly over the popcorn box in between them.

It’s memories of years ago, but Woojin can remember the way his heart was beating so rapidly against his chest, as if it was just yesterday.

There’s a series of more questions that Jihoon shoots that takes time. It’s hard for them to not get distracted whenever they have to answered the more personal questions that take them back down the memory lane, or when Woojin says a dirty joke and Jihoon tries not to murder him.

“And, for the last part of this video, we thought that we could do something that went viral recently!” Jihoon beams in front of the camera.

Woojin scoffs, “You mean… I thought that we could do? You were against the idea initially.”

Jihoon pouts, crossing his arms and purposely standing up so he could be several inches away from Woojin (but still captured in the camera frame). And Woojin can’t help but grin at how cute Jihoon is and then, he’s turning over to face Jihoon.

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

They don’t even need to establish who’s who in the video because it’s already a given. Jihoon wins the first round, and he grins triumphantly at the chance of being able to slap Woojin across the face.

Woojin has always known that Jihoon’s a little bitch, but he never quite expected the slap to be _that_ hard. He can feel the residual sting of the slap, and he clutches onto his cheek dramatically, “Excuse me! That _hurt!_ ”

Jihoon just grins. “It didn’t say that I had to do it lightly!”

“Just watch out, Park Jeojang. Just watch out.”

Woojin does win the next match, and it’s his turn to smile triumphantly as he leans in to cup Jihoon’s cheeks in his palms and presses a kiss to his lips.

Kissing Jihoon is just like second nature. It comes naturally to him, and Woojin relishes in the sweetness of Jihoon’s lips against his own. He wishes that he could deepen the kiss, lick into the crevices of Jihoon’s mouth, but he remembers that they are playing a game, that they are being filmed on camera—and he’s reminded that kissing Jihoon any deeper would be treading into intimate territory so he pulls back.

And when he does so, he sees the dusty pink on Jihoon’s cheeks and he grins.

They continue the game for another minute or so. Jihoon’s slaps get softer with every passing round, and it almost feels like Woojin presses his kisses for a second longer with every time he wins.

Woojin throws a paper again while Jihoon throws a rock, and Jihoon groans at his fifth consecutive loss—and Woojin’s leaning in. But this time, Jihoon’s wrapping his arms around Woojin’s waist as Woojin pulls back from the peck; and Woojin presses Jihoon down against the bed to deepen their kiss, after making sure that their faces can’t be captured by the camera.

“Love you, _boyfriend,_ ” Woojin murmurs against his lips.

“Me too,” Jihoon blushes.

“I’m not doing that boyfriend tag thing again,” Woojin scowls. “It’s too much questions that makes me think of _us_.”

“Like as if you can ever resist me,” Jihoon retorts, and there’s an all-knowing smirk on his face.

(A year later, they upload _The Boyfriend Tag - Part 2._ )


	10. lay your hand(s) on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tiff](http://archiveofourown.org/users/parknpeach/pseuds/parknpeach): i want clingy 2park  
>  rea: how about them having their hands superglued to each other's

Jihoon thinks of the many ways that he wants his first _official_ hand-holding to go.

It’d be cute if it happened on a rainy day, linking hands with the person he loves so that he can pull them closer to him, so that the raindrops won’t hit their skin. He also considered how it’d be cute if they hadn’t meant to hold hands, that it happened naturally as they were running away from something, anything.

Jihoon loves reading manga, but he doesn’t admit that he secretly does enjoy shoujo manga, for its heart-fluttering scenes—and it makes him wonder when _his_ time would come.

It’s natural that he expects the butterflies slowly growing within him as their hands grow closer to each other. It’d be an awkward moment of trust and yet, affection; of knowing the mutual love but yet, hesitating to make the first move.

So, he doesn’t quite expect the first time he “holds hands” with someone else to go like this:

Jihoon’s been studying for the past few hours, and his head’s starting to hurt from the amount of math problems that he’s been doing. It isn’t because he hates maths. There’s something great about math, of how there’s only one standard answer to it; and it just depends on the formula that you use to get to the final solution.But it has been _hours_ , and Jihoon thinks that he deserves a break.

So, he climbs down from his top bunk, and he heads straight for Woojin’s bed, where the younger has been trying to fix his legos for the past few hours. It doesn’t work though, because Jihoon’s been watching the way Woojin has been getting distracted every now and then, but he also knows Woojin as someone who is persistent, and doesn’t give up, so he’s _still_ working on his legos.

“How’s it going?” Jihoon says, and it gives Woojin a shock from the way he jumps back slightly.

“God, you gave me a shock,” Woojin yells. Jihoon gives a nod of approval at the way the lego seems to be assembling well, at how the pieces fit each other—but he can’t help but reach out for the lego blocks, so that he can get a better look at it, and Woojin’s swatting at his hands while spitting out a “Don’t touch them! It’s not ready yet!”

And somehow, there’s something wet _and_ sticky on Woojin’s hand and Jihoon can feel a bad feeling pooling within him.

Indeed, it isn’t wrong of him to feel that way because _what the fuck_ , is that superglue on Park Woojin’s hand? And is that the feeling of his hand getting stuck on Park Woojin’s hand?

“What,” Jihoon stares at their linked hands. It feels like the layer of cold glue that’s between them is turning warm, hardened with every passing heartbeat.

“What,” Woojin echoes in disbelief. Then, their eyes look up to meet each other’s gaze, and Jihoon’s not quite sure of how to interpret the gaze in Woojin’s eyes.  

“What are we going to do with _this_ ,” Jihoon questions. It isn’t exactly how he envisioned his first hand-holding to go, but he thinks of how it’s with Park Woojin, the guy who he’s been pining after for since Produce 101, and it isn’t as _bad,_ really. He doesn’t know if Woojin has the same thoughts as he is, when it’s hard to interpret his actions: one moment he’s leaning into Jihoon, and the next, he’s pushing him away, jerking away as if Jihoon’s a virus.

“I don’t know,” Woojin says honestly. “Do you know what removes super glue?”

“Um,” Jihoon blinks. “Do I look like I get super glue stuck on my hand on a regular basis?”

Woojin frowns, and Jihoon tries to ignore the way his heart skips at the way his eyebrows scrunch together—and that makes Woojin look absolutely adorable. “I’ll search it on Naver.”

It’s awkward, because Woojin’s the type to type with both fingers, but one of his hand is currently _stuck_ onto Jihoon’s (and it happens to be with his dominant hand). Jihoon scowls, before he’s motioning for Woojin to pass him his phone, so that Jihoon can type into the search bar instead.

“Just give it to me, stupid,” Jihoon says. Woojin scowls, before handing it over and it is indeed, easier for Jihoon to type the words out. He scrolls for a moment, and he tries not to puke at the how one of the suggestions say olive oil. “It says to try using olive oil.”

Woojin muses for a moment. “That sounds disgusting.”

“I know,” Jihoon frowns. “But _this_ feels even more disgusting.”

“You’re right,” Woojin nods. “Let’s see if there’s any in the kitchen.”

It’s awkward to have their hands permanently interlinked in a high five, but it’s even more awkward for them to try to get off the bed in one piece, as it feels like Jihoon has an extra weight attached to him, and suddenly, he can’t quite get a grasp of his sense of balance. He tries not to fall as Woojin stands up from his bed, and it’s Woojin who catches him before he can facepalm into the ground; and there’s his left hand hovering beneath his waist.

It almost resembles ballroom dancing, the moment when the girl leans backwards and Jihoon can feel the heat rush to his face at their proximity, and the way Woojin’s face is so close to his own, that he can feel Woojin’s breath on his face.

Jihoon huffs a “Let’s go” before dragging them both out of the room.

 

—

 

To their dismay, they do not manage to find olive oil in the kitchen.

There’s only cooking oil, and Jihoon stares at the bottle. “Do you think it’d still work?”

“I think it’d feel disgusting,” Woojin replies.

“Well, no harm trying,” and Jihoon’s already working the cap off the bottle, admittedly, with slight difficulty.

They do manage to pour the oil over their hands, and they wait for a moment to see if the oil does it magic.

It doesn’t.

And what remains is the nasty smell of oil and an oily residue that doesn’t fade away no matter how they try to wash their hands.

Woojin frowns as Jihoon whips up his phone again, and tries to search for another method. “We could try nail polish remover.”

“Who would even have nail polish remover at home?” Woojin scoffs. None of them are girls, much less, people who would paint their nails.

“Sungwoon-hyung, maybe?” Jihoon raises a single eyebrow. Well, it did make sense to think that Sungwoon-hyung _could_ have a bottle lying somewhere in his makeup stash.

“Well, let’s go then.”

 

—

 

"Hyung, do you have nail polish remover?" Jihoon screams, running into Sungwoon-Daehwi-Jinyoung's shared room without knocking.

Sungwoon-hyung stares at Jihoon who's pulling along a Woojin behind him. He squints at them for a moment, before his eyes focus on the way their hands are linked together. And he can't help the laughter from bursting out.

"Why would I have nail polish?" Sungwoon-hyung laughs. Then, he looks closer at their hands, at the way they are joined, but it's not even in the romantic sense— and he laughs harder. "You're ridiculous, oh my god. How does that even happen?"

“I was just playing with my lego, trying to assemble them and he came to interrupt!” Woojin glares at Jihoon as Jihoon frowns, trying to find another solution that they’d have in their dormitory.

“Excuse me,” Jihoon looks up from Woojin’s phone to glare back at Woojin. “I didn’t think that you’d have superglue all over your hands. How does that even happen?”

Woojin just continues glaring at Jihoon while Sungwoon-hyung’s still laughing, but he’s trying to regain a hold of his senses, and he says, “Okay, okay. I’ll get the manager-hyungs to try to get some nail polish for you two. Meanwhile, just _chill_. Don’t do anything to make it worst.”

“As if it could get any worse after we poured cooking oil all over,” Woojin deadpans.

“You guys, _what?”_ And Sungwoon-hyung’s positively howling in laughter now.

“That’s what Naver Search told us to do!” Jihoon huffs in disbelief. He wishes that he had his other hand so that he could cross it but Park Woojin makes that job rather difficult right now.

“I can’t believe you two,” Sungwoon-hyung continues to laugh, but he’s also heading out of the room, probably to let their manager know.

There’s a moment of silence that washes upon them as Sungwoon-hyung leaves the room, and there’s no one else but them in the room. Jihoon wonders where Jinyoung and Daehwi went. Probably out on some date somewhere. But it’s also when he’s thinking about them, that he feels a familiar pool down, and Jihoon feels the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Um," Jihoon blinks, and Woojin turns over to look at Jihoon.

“What?”

"I kinda' need to pee."

 

—

 

“Okay, I told the manager-hyungs to get nail polish remover for you two,” Sungwoon-hyung grins at them, just as the both of them step out of the toilet.

Forget the nail polish remover.

Jihoon just wants to dig a hole in their dormitory so that he can hide inside of it for the rest of his life, so he doesn’t have to talk to Park Woojin ever again.

“Did you two just.. go to the toilet together?” Sungwoon-hyung points out. Jihoon wants to smoosh his face into his hands. But he gets reminded of how useful hands are, because his _one_ hand is stuck with Park Woojin’s.

“Yes,” Woojin says and there’s an unexpected steeliness, calmness to it.

“Oh my god,” Sungwoon-hyung starts to laugh. “You two are _amazing_.”

Jihoon squints at him. “Please stop talking, hyung.”

“Alright, alright. Just wanted to tell you that most of the makeup stores are closed, though, so you’re going to have to wait till tomorrow earliest.”

Jihoon scowls. Woojin just sighs.

 

—

 

They decide to head to bed as being awake just makes matters worst as they would be constantly reminded of what they can’t do because of their glued-together hands. It’s hard to find a position where the two of them can be comfortable, when their hands are stuck in a permanent high-five, but they eventually settle with the both of them looking at each other, while their high-fived hands lie in the middle of them.

It’s a strange feeling, to be in the same bed, in _this_ position, with the person that Jihoon’s been pining over for so long. He can see the moles on Woojin’s body, at the spots that no one would usually get to see unless they’re _this_ close, and he can feel the rhythmical movement of Woojin’s breathing.

Jihoon can’t help but think of the close touches, of wants and desires; but they always stray away from what he wants the most, to be able to touch Woojin as and whenever he wants to, without fear of Woojin jerking away from him. He wonders if he’d ever be able to muster up the courage to confess to Woojin, to vocalise his innermost thoughts, but there’s a lingering fear that stops him from making the first few steps forth.

“Stop thinking,” Woojin’s voice is deep and soft, but it’s as if a loudspeaker was placed by Jihoon’s ear. “You’re going to get wrinkles.”

Jihoon pouts. “Stop being so mean to me.”

“I’m always nice to you, what are you saying,” Woojin says, and Jihoon can feel the way he’s pulling Jihoon closer, into a hug and it feels like they are _cuddling_ in bed.

Cuddling.

Um.

Wow.

Yes.

Jihoon takes a particularly loud exhale, and he inches closer to Woojin. He doesn’t dare to inch _too_ close, making sure that it’s only several centimetres; and Woojin’s the one to shift his body so that their bodies against each other, and there’s nothing separately the both of them.

He can feel the way Woojin’s chest is heaving against his. It’s slow and rhythmical, the type of breathing that Jihoon remembers falling asleep to when he was younger.

And there’s just _something_ about the moment that prompts the courage to grow within Jihoon, for the words that he wanted to say along to escape from his mouth, “Hey, stupidface.”

“What do you want, buttface?”

“I… I like you. A lot.”

Jihoon can feel the way Woojin raises his head from where his chin has been nestling against Jihoon’s hair, and he’s tipping his chin up so that Jihoon can meet Woojin’s eyes.

“I know,” Woojin grins. But there’s nothing teasing about the smile, and there’s only affection and love in his gaze. It’s something that Jihoon remembers seeing in all the shoujo mangas that he has read; of how it feels like time has stopped and there’s no one else in the world except for the both of them. “And I like you too.”

Then, Woojin’s pressing his lips against his. It’s soft and sweet, and there’s something about the way that their lips meld so perfectly against each other that it makes Jihoon’s knees buckle. It’s filled with so much love and adoration, that it makes Jihoon feel like he’s riding a rollercoaster that only goes up, up, _up._

When they let go, Woojin’s eyes are sparkling with happiness and love; and Jihoon wants to capture the moment forever. So he does, by pressing another kiss to Woojin’s lips. He feels the way Woojin wraps his left hand around his waist, and suddenly, their linked hands don’t feel as awkward as before.

“Alright, alright, now time to go to sleep,” Woojin grins at Jihoon after they pull away _again_ , and Jihoon hates the way his snaggletooth peeks out from the side, and it only makes Jihoon’s fall just a _little_ bit more in love for him.

“Good night, stupidface.”

“Love you too, buttface.”

 

—

 

When they wake up in the morning, the manager-hyungs do manage to find a bottle of acetone nail polish remover, and the thing works like magic. Well, the rest of the members wake up and to see their glue-linked hands and laugh maniacally over it (including Sungwoon-hyung), and they glare at the rest of the members, but all’s well when the god-sent nail polish remover arrives.

But even as the layer of glue between them is dissolved, has faded, Jihoon still finds himself reaching out for Woojin’s hand.

Woojin just smiles at him, “Missed me that much already?”

“Not you, stupidface,” Jihoon squints. “I just miss your hand.”

“Yeah, sure, buttface,” Woojin grins back, and this time, he makes sure that his own fingers slip through the gaps of Jihoon’s own fingers; and it’s just surreal how Woojin’s monster, large hands fit so well with his smaller, soft ones.

This time, and the next, and the next, they don’t need superglue between their hands for them to come interlocked within each other’s grasps.


	11. the right jihoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink/post/244782262): Since there are recent interaction has been going on between Woojin and SEVENTEEN Woozi (which his real name is Jihoon, coincidently) can you write something in Jihoon's perception about this? Like jealousy or some sort? Cuz our snaggletooth right there is heading to another Jihoon.
> 
> ty anon for this wonderful prompt because it finally means we have a jealous! jihoon fic YESSSSSSSSS

Jihoon contemplates if he should run away from his family, so that he can be adopted by the Lee family, so that he can become a Lee Jihoon instead.

He can’t help but huff as Woojin taps away on his phone, probably chatting away with a certain  _ Lee  _ Jihoon, who he’s managed to become close friends with ever since they had an opportunity to interact with each other backstage.

Jihoon knows it, knows how it’s like to make new friends. There’s something about being able to find out more about a stranger, to know want to unravel the mystery of your new friend. Jihoon knows it, but he can’t help the ugly seeds of jealousy from blossoming within him, especially when Woojin’s been ignoring him for the past few hours, busy tapping away on his phone even though Jihoon’s been staring daggers at the back of Woojin’s head for the past few hours. 

It’s easy to mask his jealousy as anger, as he continues to pretend to be playing games on his computer. He huffs every now and then, and it’s become so common that Woojin doesn’t even bat an eyelash. From the corner of Jihoon’s eyes though, he can see how Guanlin’s gaze on his has started to be filled with concern, and Jihoon wonders how fucking dense his boyfriend actually is.

Perhaps, he’s being a little  _ too  _ rough with his laptop, because he slams it shut, even though he’s still in a game with Daniel-hyung, climbs off his bed, so that he can get out of the room. 

Jihoon knows that a part of him  _ is  _ being childish, but there’s something about the way he can’t command the attention of his boyfriend, about how Woojin’s been texting with the  _ other  _ Jihoon for the past few hours that makes the prickling insecurity come biting at him. And Jihoon isn’t exactly the type of person to say everything that he’s thinking about, not when he thinks that the consequences of doing so could turn pretty much,  _ ugly _ .

He likes winter, likes the feeling of the cold winter breeze against his cheeks and he finds himself sitting in the middle of their balcony, where they have put two chairs in it. He closes the door behind him before settling down on the chair, hugging his knees tight and pressing his chin against the top. 

Jihoon knows that Woojin  _ loves  _ him, and that he’s pretty much whipped for him. But Jihoon knows how talented  _ Lee  _ Jihoon is, knows how he composes the songs for all of Seventeen’s songs, knows how he has that gap between his looks and his personality; and he wonders if  _ Lee  _ Jihoon can do a better job than him at making Woojin smile.

He can’t help but think of all his flaws, of all the times that he had broken down backstage due to the building stress and fears of always wanting to do well, of never settling for anything else than the best. He remembers how Woojin had been there for him all the time, holding his hand and helping him to get back on his own two feet; and he wonders if Woojin has gotten tired of having to take care of him.

He thinks back of their stage at MAMA Vietnam, where Woojin had lit up after seeing that  _ Lee  _ Jihoon was to his side, even though he, himself, was standing behind Woojin. 

Love doesn’t die, and people are the ones who make it die; and he wonders, if part of their mutual affection has died. 

“You’re going to catch a cold, stupidface.”

There’s a blanket that’s thrown over his head before Jihoon can turn back to see the person who just walked into the kitchen. But he knows who’s the owner of the voice without even looking, knows that it can only be Park Woojin, and he’s the only person who would actually call Jihoon  _ stupidface _ .

The blanket is warm, and when Jihoon takes an accidental whiff of it as he’s pulling it off to wrap it tighter around himself, it smells of Park Woojin. He knows that it’s the blanket that Woojin had been covering himself with, and Jihoon mentally scowls at how whipped he is for Woojin, that he finds himself wanting to be enveloped entirely by Park Woojin, and  _ not  _ his blanket.

“Aren’t you busy talking to your new best friend?” Jihoon spits out, and it comes out a little harsher than he thought. 

If Woojin’s hurt by Jihoon’s words, he doesn’t let it show, and instead, he tugs at the sides of the blankets, so that he can cover himself under it while pulling Jihoon into a side-hug.

“You’re stupid,” Woojin says, but his hand is around Jihoon’s waist.

“Hmph,” Jihoon huffs, purposefully inching away so that some of the cold air hits Woojin’s body as he tightens the blankets around himself. “I’m not stupid…”

He hears the way his voice cracks at the edges, and he thinks that he’s really fucking stupid. Woojin wraps his arms around Jihoon even before the tears escape his eyes, and he feels the way Woojin rubs his monster hands down his back and it’s terrible because it only makes the tears escape.

“I should change my name to Lee,” Jihoon says in between his sniffles.

“You  _ are _ stupid,” Woojin replies, and his other hand nestles itself in Jihoon’s hair. “I like  _ my  _ Park Jihoon to remain as Park Jihoon.”

It takes several more heartbeats before Jihoon does manage to calm down, and the sobs turn into soft sniffles instead. Woojin pulls away from the hug so that he can wipe at the tear tracks that have streamed down Jihoon’s face, and hold his face up between his palms, as if cupping a baby bird, to meet eyes with Jihoon.

“I’ll make new friends, babe, but know that you’re always going to be the number one in my heart,” Woojin smiles. The snaggletooth peeks out at the side, and Jihoon finds himself chuckling at how easy it is for Woojin to make him smile, that he just needs that  _ tad  _ amount of attention from Woojin to make whatever insecurities that he had from before fade into nothingness.

“You’re so cheesy,” Jihoon breathes out, but there’s the sneaking laughter that’s bubbling up within his throat. 

“Only for you, babe,” Woojin reassures, and his voice is like a lighthouse for Jihoon’s storm-wrecked heart. 

They look straight into each other’s eyes, and it feels like the world has come to a slow—and Woojin’s the one to press the kisses against Jihoon’s lips. “No matter what happens, you’re going to be stuck with me for  _ forever _ .”

Jihoon thinks of the prickling insecurities that he has, and how Woojin had stayed by his side through all the ugly moments in life—and he can’t help but wonder what he has ever done in his life to deserve Park Woojin.

It’s also now that he feels something wet landing on the top of his head, and when he looks up, snowflakes are falling from the sky. He hates snow because it gets so troublesome when the icy season hits, but he sees the way Woojin’s eyes light up in child-like wonder, and he can’t help but smile, and the insecurities fade away like how the snow melts on the ground.

“It’s snowing!” Woojin says, and then he’s turning to look at Jihoon again.

“It is,” Jihoon replies, and then their lips are meeting in the middle.

It’s a moment so cheesy that Jihoon feels like he’s living a life like a shoujo manga protagonist; but it’s a moment with Park Woojin, and Jihoon cherishes every one of these moments.

“Does this mean you’re  _ not  _ going to talk to Lee Jihoon anymore?” Jihoon teases him as they pull away.

“No way!” Woojin frowns. “He’s a good friend.”

Jihoon pouts, but then Woojin’s pinching his cheeks and telling him, “You’re the only Jihoon I need for the rest of my life, stupidface.”


	12. colour my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this](https://en.rocketnews24.com/2017/11/27/friends-reaction-to-high-school-boys-penchant-for-crossdressing-is-both-unexpected-and-cute/) and vaguely, Eromanga-sensei.

Jihoon’s a man of many secrets.

At school, everyone knows of him as the Popular Kid, the one with the curled brown hair and sparkly eyes. They call it “eyes that you can’t get  _ even  _ with plastic surgery”, and he knows that it’s a part of  _ him _ that no one else can replicate; and it’s also why he sends winks to people around; to gain their favour so that they’d always be on their side in the environment of high school where everyone just wants to be able to fit in.

A part of Jihoon relishes in the attention, in the popularity that he receives in school; of being a trendsetter. He knows how everyone has started wearing brighter colours (cardigans, bags, little trinkets) ever since he stepped into school in a bright yellow, padded jacket. There’s just something about knowing that he’s the one to start these trends that make his heart grow warm with pride. 

Popularity comes with a price, and honestly, Jihoon has lost count of the number of love letters that have been stacking up in his shoe locker every day, of the number of girls who have come to his classroom, asking “Oppa, please meet me in the classroom at 3.30pm after class!”

He wishes that it’s easy for him to say  _ no, _ to stop the expectations from even growing in the hearts of these girls before he rejects them; but the words stay lodged in his throat, and he finds himself accepting their request, but eventually rejecting them, anyway.

Jihoon has secrets, and he doesn’t want  _ anyone  _ to know about it.

It’s finally a day where he doesn’t have any arrangements after class, and he’s glad to be able to head home straight after class. He heads straight for his room after he puts down his shoes at the main corridor, and he can’t help the excitement from bubbling within him, at the chance of being able to do what he loves to do the most.

Jihoon likes manga. He’s liked it ever since his older brother had introduced him to the hit Japanese manga when they were younger. There was just something about the themes of hard work, friendship and victory that calls to his boyish heart. Somewhere along the lines, he found himself picking up pen and paper, and wanting to translate his own courage into art—and he started to draw.

It took years for him to get to where he is together, and he finds himself logging onto Twitter and getting ready to hold a broadcast where he draws live. Surprisingly, what he was good at wasn’t the art of fighting, violence and blood; but rather, it was in the sparkles of love and budding romances. 

He doesn’t quite know why he wanted to keep it secret, but perhaps, it’s the fears and insecurities that remain inside of him. Popularity is a bubble that could be popped any moment, and Jihoon’s afraid of the consequences if anyone where to find out that  _ he  _ drew shoujo manga-sque art.

Jihoon puts on a mask, as usual as he picks up his materials to start drawing. The mask does a good job at covering most of his features, only showing his eyes to show the viewers that he’s a real person, who’s drawing their requests.

It takes a while for people to start streaming in even as he tweets about his impromptu drawing session, and the edges of his lips are tugged up to form a smile as he reads the comments:

> _ Jeojang-nim! It’s been a while! I’ve missed your works! _ _   
>  _ _ Jeojang-nimmmmmm!! _

“Hello everyone!” Jihoon starts, waving to the camera in front of him. “It’s been a while because I’ve been busy with school; but I managed to find time today!”

“Let me know what you want me to draw today,” Jihoon continues. It’s always the same routine and Jihoon’s always saying the same things, and he’s scrolling through the comments to see what are the things that people want to see today.

Sometimes, he gets the occasional  _ erotica  _ requests, wanting panty shots and lolis but it doesn’t ever sit well with him; and he rejects them politely. Jihoon likes his art to be innocent and the sparkles of heart-fluttering romance to remain, so he settles for cute girls who fall in love for the first time instead.

“Alright, I’ll be drawing  _ Narumi Sena  _ from the Honeyworks series,” Jihoon decides. Narumi Sena  _ is  _ cute, and she’s a model, which allows Jihoon to get free reign over her outfits. He enjoys drawing outfits, for it allows his imagination to expand and go beyond the standard Korean fashion that he sees on his classmates after school.

He plays some kpop in the background as he hums and draws. It takes him several minutes to complete his handicraft, but he shows it off to the camera, where he gets claps and cheers in reply from the comments.

“I’m quite satisfied with this,” Jihoon comments, looking at his artwork with a bright smile (that’s hidden by the mask). “I’ll probably be colouring it digitally. So I’ll be ending my broadcast now so I can finish it up. Byebye!”

He waits for a few moments before he ends the broadcast with his signature, “I’ll save you into my heart!” and he’s in a good mood, running high on the satisfaction that is his finished work.

But what he doesn’t expect after the broadcast ends is to get a message from one of his classmates, the Captain of the Soccer Team—and also, the object of his affections ever since he started high school, and they were placed in the same class.

> **From: Park Woojin  
> ** Hey, isn’t this your room?
> 
> _ Park Woojin has sent a picture. _

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck. _

Jihoon can feel his heart beating so rapidly in his chest as he opens the photo, to see a screenshot of him drawing, from the broadcast that had ended minutes ago. He isn’t quite sure how to reply, not when the message had come from  _ the  _ Park Woojin.

Park Woojin, who is popular with all the girls for his physicality, and charms the socks of all the girls (well, including Jihoon) as he scores a goal, and takes huge gulps of water from the bench as they call for a time-out. He never quite knew when he actually  _ fell _ for Park Woojin, but somewhere along the way, from the small gazes and sudden grazes of hands, he finds his heart skipping a beat whenever he thought about Park Woojin.

> **From: Park Woojin** **  
>  ** That’s you, isn’t it?

He wonders if he should act like it isn’t him, it isn’t his house that Woojin had sent a picture of; but even Jihoon knows how unconvincing it sounds when the sparkles in the eyes are a dead giveaway. 

**To: Park Woojin  
** Huh? What’s this all of a sudden?

> **From: Park Woojin** **  
>  ** I mean if you look at the room, that’s your home.   
>  And those are your eyes, ain’t it?

**To: Park Woojin** ****  
I’m sorry.   
Do you find it revolting or something?

> **From: Park Woojin** **  
>  ** I’ll be honest.

**To: Park Woojin** **  
** Okay, what is it?

> **From: Park Woojin** **  
>  ** If you go out with me, I’ll keep my mouth shut.

What.

Jihoon usually thinks of himself as a composed person, of being able to come up with witty and snarky retorts, but he can't quite think of an answer to reply Woojin. The whole situation just sounds fucking ridiculous, as if it had come out from some  _anime_ series. He wonders if it's a joke, and he finds himself typing a response even before his brain can process it.

**To: Park** **Woojin**  
Ha?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Stupid fingers. Why did you send that?

But even before he can type a response, his phone is buzzing and he stares at the screen where a  **Park Woojin is calling** is taunting him.

"Um, hello," Jihoon says, as he swipes the button across his phone to pick up Woojin's phone call.

"I hope you don't think I'm joking," Woojin's voice sounds even deeper on the phone than in reality; and a part of Jihoon is glad that he's in the comforts and safety of his own home, as he feels his knees buckling from the jitters that he's getting. "If you go out with me, I won't tell anyone about what I just saw."

"I-Isn't it weird to you?" Jihoon finds himself asking, and the steeliness of his own voice is a surprise to him.

"What is? You drawing?" Woojin questions, but there's a certain gentleness to his voice. "Why would that be weird? I think it's cute."

Jihoon takes a huge breath, and it's a heartbeat later before he replies. "Just saying, that's a crappy way to ask someone out."

Woojin laughs. It sounds so fucking different over the phone than in reality, and it almost feels like Woojin's right next to him, laughing by his side and Jihoon finds his heart beating even faster. "At least it's original."

Jihoon finds himself pouting, even though he knows that Woojin can't see it. " _Fine,_ stupidface."

"You can't even see my face right now."

"I don't need to see it to know that you're wearing a smug a-f expression," Jihoon retorts, and there's a smile that's naturally hopping onto his face. 

"Alright,  _Jeojang-nim_. See you in school tomorrow, and we're going for an after-school date tomorrow, so make sure to be cute."

Jihoon huffs, but he thinks of how it'd be like to hang out after school with Woojin, of ice-cream and milkshakes, of soft handholding (even though Jihoon thinks that he might be getting ahead of himself), and he's smiling. "See you tomorrow, stupidface."

 

—

 

It's almost too easy how well their date goes, of ice-cream and milkshakes, and their hands find each other's as Woojin walks Jihoon home.


	13. scents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vague a/b/o: alpha! woojin and omega! jihoon but it is very soft
> 
> also inspired by a chapter in horimiya but i can't remember which so i'll be back to update with the chapter number

It was tough being put into different teams for the their school’s annual cultural festivals. Woojin doesn’t consider himself, nor Jihoon, as the type of people to get involved in the festivities, but their respective team leaders—Seongwoo-hyung and Daniel-hyung—were incredibly enthusiastic, and in turn, it forced them to participate in the preparation work for the festival.

Woojin is still slightly upset because preparation means that his daily after school Jihoon time would be robbed away, and if Jihoon wasn’t in the same team as him, then there wouldn’t be any opportunities for the two of them to be together in the same space!

Daehwi raises a single eyebrow when hears Woojin sigh for the nth time. “Do you miss loverboy that much?”

“Mm.” Woojin doesn’t reply Daehwi and he stares deeper into the banner that they have been allocated. It was good that everyone had been allocated to jobs where their talents could shine at and while Woojin can’t say that he’s great at painting—at least it’s something that he isn’t going to fuck up at. “I’ll go grab some drinks. Want anything?”

Daehwi muses for a moment before he realises that Woojin probably isn’t going to get a drink, and he rolls his eyes before swatting at Woojin. “Don’t let me come between you and Jihoon-hyung. Go find him.”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say that I was going to find him.”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” Daehwi retorts. “Now, shoo!”

Woojin closes the door to his classroom behind. It’s colder than outside, considering that he’s been painting the damn banner for a good hour or so and he takes a sniff of the outside air to find Jihoon. Hmm. Backyard. He puts the thought at the back of his head, walking towards the vending machine so he can grab drinks for the both of them.

It’s always milk for Jihoon, since he’s been whining about wanting to grow taller—and milk coffee for Woojin because he’s on the verge of falling asleep. Maybe he’s a tad excited from the way he takes two steps down the staircase, but he does miss Jihoon.

When he’s out in the open, the frosty cold bites almost immediately at him, and Woojin lets his nose take him to where Jihoon is. jihoon’s sitting in front of one of the large banners that his team is also making—and somehow, the thought that Jihoon was delegated the same role as he, makes Woojin’s heart warm up. It’s the very thought of how similar they both are, even though they are at different places, that Woojin is reminded of how they are together—and they are one.

He’s only several more footsteps next to Jihoon, when the gust of wind blows past Jihoon, and in Woojin’s direction that Woojin picks up a foreign scent. He knows Jihoon of as hot chocolate and sweet flower; and not quite the nodes of cotton that he’s picking up that’s intermixing in the familiar scent.

Nevertheless, he swallows the lump in his throat and he presses the milk carton on the top of Jihoon’s head. “Hey, stupid.”

“Rude,” Jihoon glares, already knowing that it’s Woojin without having to turn back to look at him. He takes the milk carton from Woojin’s hand and immediately stabs the straw in to take a sip. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Woojin nods and settles at Jihoon’s side. It’s only now that he notices that the jacket that Jihoon’s wearing looks bigger than what Woojin remembers Jihoon’s own to be (and he knows it because of the number of times Jihoon had whined for Woojin’s own bigger, softer jacket whenever Jihoon was being needy.)

"Yeah," Jihoon blinks. "Minhyun-hyung saw that I was shivering, so he lent me his jacket."

Woojin frowns at that. It's not that he hates Minhyun-hyung. Minhyun-hyung is a great person. Everyone in their year loves Minhyun-hyung, their Student Council President. He’s kind and sweet, and he always goes to the extra mile to help everyone, even though he's an alpha who could easily do things _his_ way.

But there's something about Minhyun-hyung's scent on Jihoon that leaves a sour taste on his tongue. So he takes off his jacket and extends it out to Jihoon.

"Take off Minhyun-hyung's jacket," Woojin says bluntly. "Wear mine."

Jihoon takes a moment to take in what Woojin says. Then, he's rolling his eyes while taking off Minhyun-hyung's jacket, and putting on Woojin's. "There. Happy now?"

"Mm," Woojin nods. There’s another gust of timely cold breeze that sweeps past them and it causes Woojin to shiver. He pulls over Minhyun's jacket that's been lying on Jihoon's lap and he pulls it over his shoulders. it's not like Minhyun-hyung would notice that he was wearing his jacket, would he? Anyway, it’s more plausible since his body heat would be on the jacket, and it’ll make Minhyun-hyung think that Jihoon had been wearing his jacket, right?

“Stop thinking so hard,” Jihoon chastises from the side. “You’re already done with your task?”

“Nope,” Woojin grins, biting at his straw. “I told Daehwi that I’m going to get some drinks.”

“What a terrible person,” Jihoon rolls his eyes, never taking his hand off the paint brush that he has been holding.

“But you love me,” Woojin states simply.

“I do,” Jihoon says, soft. When Woojin looks up to see Jihoon’s expression, it’s the myriad of emotions that show on Jihoon’s face that makes it hard for Woojin to find a single word to explain what it is—so he leans in, pulling at Jihoon’s tie so that he can press a soft kiss against the plump lips.

Winter is cold and it means that gusty winds, and there's another breeze that sweeps past him that causes the nodes of cotton and linen to sweep up his nose. He hastily takes out his jacket and nudges at Jihoon, "Take off your jacket."

"What," Jihoon blinks. "I just put it on." 

But Jihoon's taking it off anyway and Woojin is quick in placing the jacket over Jihoon's shoulders while putting his own jacket back on. He makes sure to hug Jihoon tight, nuzzling at his neck quickly so that his scent remains strong on Jihoon. Then, he presses a kiss to Jihoon's cheek, "See you later, love."

God bless that they were all blessed with enhanced senses so Woojin's able to do all that before Minhyun-hyung's back to check up on Jihoon. He dashes back up to his class, and maybe, it  _was_ a good thing that he went to find Jihoon because he finds himself painting with increased fervour.

Daehwi mutters, "Damn lovebirds," under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and also a bump: we're now starting sign-ups and prompting for the 2park summer sonata! you can find out more about the fic fest on our [twitter](https://twitter.com/2PARKSS) so pls sign up today!


	14. books and numbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: jihoon as a strict assistant librarian assigned for a week happens to be the week before the finals exam so a guy named park woojin with his friends had stay in the library, only to be scolded by jihoon for being so loud. then he had to borrow a book but forgot his card so he gave jihoon his number instead AU

Jihoon likes the library.

He likes the quiet, the smell of old books when he flips through them and he likes muted conversations with strangers when they check out a book that he’s read before. He isn’t too sure when he had started liking books. Maybe it was back in the old days, where his older brother would read stories to him before they went to sleep. Maybe it was from the days where he was still young, and he would save his pocket money for a book that he wanted to read (but his parents wouldn’t buy it for him. Jihoon doesn’t blame them. They hadn’t been very well off in the past.)

Maybe, Jihoon should be thankful for circumstances, because it’s what that leads him to find solace and comfort in the library. He gets a clear view of the sports field from the library. He sees how the soccer club would practice, loud cheers when someone manages to score a goal. He sees how the track and field club would take multiple runs around the track. A part of Jihoon wonders if he’s missing out on the vibrance of youth that’s associated with sunset hues and fiery sports, but Jihoon knows that that isn’t  _ him _ and he likes it better when he’s around his books, anyway.

There’s silence that envelopes the school, even when the sun is setting. When Jihoon looks out of the window, there’s nothing outside. It’s a sign that it’s finals seasoning approaching, where club activities are cancelled. The library is more crowded than usual and Jihoon is thankful that he’s a member of the Library Club as he’s guaranteed a seat at the reception counter even during the peak periods where people like to spend hours studying.

Silence is what he associates the library with.

It’s why Jihoon finds himself getting annoyed as the days leading up to finals seasons pass because there’s a particular clique that is always  _ so _ noisy and Jihoon doesn’t understand why they are even here. Jihoon recognizes them. They are from his year: Ahn Hyungseob, Choi Yoojung and Park Woojin. Jihoon knows them as the popular kids of their batch and they really just can’t shut up even though they are supposed to be quiet in the library.

Jihoon sighs as he hears laugher rising from afar. He tries to breath in and out, to calm himself down, but Ahn Hyungseob’s laughter only gets louder with every minute and Jihoon finds himself walking towards  _ their  _ table in the library.

“Excuse me,” Jihoon coughs. Three heads immediately turn to look at him and Jihoon starts to feel the water building up in his throat. He never dealt well with crowds, much more people like  _ them _ that seemed so different from who he is. He takes a deep breath, and he hopes that his voice doesn’t quiver. “But it’ll be appreciated if you could keep your voice levels down in the library. It’s finals season, so everyone’s studying, after all.”

“We’re really sorry!” Woojin apologizes quickly, but it’s loud at Jihoon tries not to cringe. He ducks his head immediately after he speaks, and Jihoon thinks that it’s an attempt to apologize for speaking a tad  _ too _ loudly, but what’s done is already done and Jihoon waves it away.

“Please just try to keep it down. Thanks.”

Jihoon wants to give himself a pat on the back for how level his voice was throughout the entire conversation. Maybe they hate him now, for interrupting whatever fun conversation that they were having. It’s what the popular kids do, don’t they? From all the novels that Jihoon has read, they  _ do  _ hate people who disrupt their fun. Jihoon sighs.

 

—

 

It’s approaching the end of his shift when there’s the sound of a throat being cleared as Jihoon has been doing his Math problems for the past hour. Jihoon looks up and he tries not to let the surprise show on his face at the fact that Park Woojin is standing in front of him, with a book in his hand.

His face is red, and Jihoon blinks. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like to borrow this,” Woojin says. He’s looking away even though Jihoon’s sure that he can feel Jihoon’s own gaze on him. That’s awkward. Isn’t it only polite for you to meet someone else’s eyes when you’re having a conversation? Maybe he does really hate Jihoon after all.

“Sure,” Jihoon nods, hands brushing over Woojin’s own hands slightly when he reaches over to take a book. Jihoon wouldn’t consider himself to be someone who judges the choice of books that people borrow. Everyone had their own interests, after all. But it is Park Woojin who is borrowing a book,  _ the  _ Park Woojin who spends every waking hour in school playing soccer and falling asleep in class, that Jihoon can’t quite imagine him reading a book. And Jihoon can’t help but take a glance at the book that Woojin’s borrowing.

_ Miracles of the Namiya General Store  _ does not sound like a book that Park Woojin would read. But ok, Jihoon doesn’t judge and maybe it’s Woojin’s first attempts at reading. It’s never too late to start a hobby in reading, after all. Jihoon slides the book across the machine as he asks, “Could I get your library card, please?”

Jihoon watches the way Woojin panics, “Fuck. What’s that…”

Jihoon wants to facepalm. He doesn’t like to judge people, but Woojin is too ridiculous and  _ why would you come to a library to borrow a book when you don’t even know what a library card is _ —oh god. “It’s your student card.”

“Oh,” Woojin flushes even redder now. “I think I left it at home. Could I give you my number or something instead?”

_ Number _ ? What? Jihoon blinks. “Why would I want your number? If you’re going to be borrowing a book, I’d need your student number instead.”

“Ah, right,” Woojin splutters. Jihoon almost starts to feel sorry at how Woojin looks entirely helpless at borrowing a damn book from the library. It’s a Woojin that Jihoon doesn’t recognize: not the confident and loud football player that Jihoon knows. 

“Do you know what your student number is?”

“Um,” Woojin scratches at the back of his head, a sheepish smile. “No.”

“Fine, I’ll check it out for you under my name, so you can just return it when you’re done,” Jihoon says as he scans his own student card. He hands the book back over to Woojin and explains, “Books can be loaned for two weeks, so just bring it back after two weeks.”

“Thanks for your help,” Woojin grins, taking the book from Jihoon’s hands. “I have a feeling that I’d forget to return it though, so is it okay if I give you my number, just in case?”

“Um.” 

But Woojin is already tearing at the memo pad that they usually leave at the front of the counter for students to write down titles of books that they can’t find. He writes it down quick and fast and then he pushes the paper over to Jihoon and he runs away from the counter even before Jihoon can say anything.

 

> _ +82 12 3456 7890 _
> 
> _ I want to get to know you better, Park Jihoon  
>  _ _ so text me _
> 
> _ — Park Woojin _

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave my prompts on my [cc](http://curiouscat.me/chamwink), and hit me up on [twitter](http://twitter.com/99izm) so we can die over 2park together!


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